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Winter is oppressive this year. I consider myself to be fond of all seasons, including winter, but as the snowbanks grow, I am a little bit in awe of the challenges of winter. I have begun my journey of Lenten observations, but my Nativity is still parked on the front yard, with no hope of being wedged out until some of this disappears. I would guess that the accumulation is somewhere around the three foot mark at this point.

I came upstairs this morning, put on the coffee and then decided to sit and finish reading I Am Woman: A Native Perspective on Sociology and Feminism by Lee Maracle. Outside, the snow was coming down steadily and there was evidence that it had been snowing all night long. Maxman was okay to chill out with me and we both eased into morning, without any attachment to screens at all.

By 10:30, the book was finished and I felt completely depleted. Interesting that in the very last section, titled, Last Words, Maracle stated that most readers would have stopped by that point. I had hung in…decompressing at times, but certainly interested in the honest approach to dealing with the topics that other writers might easily skirt around. It was a difficult book, heart-breaking in so many ways…only 140 pages, compact, intense but, most important for understanding.

I continue to be very moved by the journey and history of my indigenous brothers and sisters. With this reading, I received new revelations to the struggles…for women, especially.

Today, the snow created a bit of an oppressive context for me, while carrying the weight of these stories. I thought that getting down to the Bow River might create a bit of a respite from my own thoughts. Instead, I encountered the desperation of hungry animals.

My eyes seem to be wide open when I am at the river’s edge. I feel blessed that way.

The first thing I noticed was the gobble gobble sound of a male pheasant as he valiantly took flight, gliding quite a distance from the hill across from me. A scattering of snow and a coyote bounded from that same location, toward me and Max. I hadn’t even left the parking lot, at this point, and already spotted the female pheasant in a neighbouring shrub. She was going no where!

I was pretty certain that this coyote was one that I’ve been observing lately, easily identified by an evident limp and a mangy coat. As the weeks of bitter cold continue, a generous food source, in the way of mice, voles and such is becoming very challenging. The predators are looking gaunt.

Stepping onto the trail, into the deep woods, and along the dark turquoise river, I noticed canine tracks in the fresh snow, unaccompanied by any human presence. I looked down at Max and told him, “Let’s go another route today, Max.” As I took pause and looked up, there, only a few meters away, stood one of the juvenile Bald Eagles about half way up a tree. His back was hunched and covered in a transparent blanket of snow. As Max and I moved to go around his territory, he took flight, his huge wings opening up directly above us. Having taken the more traveled route, it wasn’t far and we met two of our friends, both intensely engaged in something else.

It took Max a short while to respond. I think he was curious, more than anything. But, out of nowhere, he let out a wild and crazy barking-frenzy and in response, nine deer took flight and bounded across the landscape. It all happened so fast that I didn’t have opportunity to react. The coyotes followed the deer, without hesitation.

A moment’s pause and then, slowly and methodically, three other deer appeared. I have a sense that these are the younger three and that the adults had reacted to Max’s barking. Is that possible? Dunno… Tentatively, these guys carried on in the direction of the action. Max and I headed north on the river.

I wondered about there even being a possibility that coyotes might feed on deer during the winter. I suppose if one were to fall ill or if the coyotes worked together, their clever approach to community-hunting might provide for a meal of venison. I just know that in the cold and the snow, I felt compassion for all…the pheasant, the eagle, the deer and the coyotes.

For years, I’ve logged on to a Live Eagle Cam at Duke Farms. I’ve just recently seen that a second egg has been laid at the nest. Last year, surprisingly, no eagles nested in that location. Tonight, the camera is capturing an adult sitting on the nest in a horrible snow storm…

At a point, I got myself out of sync on the reading selections for the Aboriginal Pride with 12CSI reading list. It all began at the reading of Clearing the Plains. I haven’t reviewed this book yet because, honestly, I still have a chapter to go. (Intense) This one should be required reading for every post secondary student…but, more on that another time!

Regardless, I attended the book clubs for those few months, as I am always so grateful for the fact that such excellent conversations occur and I learn so much.

The Oil Man and the Sea: Navigating the Northern Gateway by Arno Kopecky did not seem, by its title, to be anything I would ever consider picking up to read and yet, upon the recommendation by a book club member, I did. While Arno Kopecky is not an Indigenous author, the book was suggested for its connection to numerous Indigenous activists, elders, fishermen and various people impacted by development and encroachment around the Northern Gateway. This author introduced me to many of the issues surrounding the history and planning for transportation of product in a highly pristine and essential part of Canada. One might argue that the narrative might be skewed, given that the writer is speaking from a non-indigenous voice, however, I feel that my personal journey addressing the Calls to Action involves a lot of discernment and listening..to many voices. I have been living in a sort of fog all of these years, where it comes to this discourse.

45. We call upon the Government of Canada, on behalf of
all Canadians, to jointly develop with Aboriginal peoples
a Royal Proclamation of Reconciliation to be issued by
the Crown. The proclamation would build on the Royal
Proclamation of 1763 and the Treaty of Niagara of 1764,
and reaffirm the nation-to-nation relationship between
Aboriginal peoples and the Crown. The proclamation
would include, but not be limited to, the following
commitments:

i. Repudiate concepts used to justify European
sovereignty over Indigenous lands and peoples such
as the Doctrine of Discovery and terra nullius.
ii. Adopt and implement the United Nations
Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples as
the framework for reconciliation.
iii. Renew or establish Treaty relationships based on
principles of mutual recognition, mutual respect,
and shared responsibility for maintaining those
relationships into the future.
iv. Reconcile Aboriginal and Crown constitutional
and legal orders to ensure that Aboriginal peoples
are full partners in Confederation, including the
recognition and integration of Indigenous laws and
legal traditions in negotiation and implementation
processes involving Treaties, land claims, and other
constructive agreements.

47. We call upon federal, provincial, territorial, and
municipal governments to repudiate concepts used to
justify European sovereignty over Indigenous peoples
and lands, such as the Doctrine of Discovery and terra
nullius, and to reform those laws, government policies,
and litigation strategies that continue to rely on such
concepts.

This book is built for the adventurer and for the person who has a big appreciation for wild parts of Canada that, despite the challenges in favour of development, industry and encroachment, remains one of the few places that exemplify that particular MAGIC that comes with WILD.

My preamble…then, I’ll carry on about the book. This next paragraph is from my gut…a simple formulation of my own feelings. Yes. I drive a car. Yes. I purchase packaged items. Don’t throw tomatoes.

The Canadian government has demonstrated tremendous determination to create/grow an economy built on the back of energy. There is no way that Canadians see ‘everything that goes on’, given the vast and oft-isolated topographical regions of this country, our home. What we don’t see, can’t bother us. And yet, living in these far off places, our indigenous brothers and sisters are well-aware of the tapping out of resources, the destruction and the economic hardship resulting from the abandonment of industry as it becomes obsolete or sucked dry. There are witnesses.

I’m just going to let you sit with those images. I’ve been sitting with them, and all I have to say is that things are way out of control and so much about it has to do with economics and employment. ‘Corporate’ Canada wants YOU!

Enough of a side-lined rant!

The book is a good one…it moves very quickly. It isn’t a struggle and it is certainly not dark or apocalyptic. Arno Kopecky and photographer Ilja Herb, take the reader on a magical journey (I felt like I was there) aboard a small sailing boat…well, is forty-one feet, small? It seems small to me. Neither of them had prior experience sailing. So, one aspect of the book is the story of negotiating this boat through British Columbia’s central coast. So, firstly, this would be considered an adventure book as in this part of our country, the inland passages are linked together by a dramatic network of fjords, islands and lush forested land masses interspersed with inlets. I was enamoured by the descriptions of place throughout and feel as though I was introduced to the Great Bear Rainforest in a very honest way.

Second to this, I enjoyed the many personal narratives by the people and accounts about the people who, in several cases, gave these men safe harbour, assisted in repairs and often contributed to the content of the book through interviews. Several participants have committed their lives to the protection of this land and water, knowing full well that this is likely the last great wilderness on earth. The writer seemed naive at times, meeting such wise and dedicated individuals.

Third, I grew in my knowledge about the history and planning of Enbridge Inc.’s Northern Gateway. My knowledge now exceeds what I’ve picked up over news stories these last many years. The book was generous in terms of presenting several different perspectives, as well. I learned that the weather through this region is unpredictable and that the waters to be negotiated are prone to storms and crazy conditions. It doesn’t take much for Canadians to realize the risk that such conditions pose to wildlife and environment.

The book was beautiful in its rich description of the land, the wildlife, the people and the waters. I highly recommend this read. As a result of this reading, I send out unlimited positive wishes regarding our human reliance on non-renewable energy sources and the almost obsessive willingness we have to challenge the delicate eco-systems of our nation, in order to continue down the same path, rather than pour that same energy into alternative solutions.

What comes of all of it is that we need to challenge our thinking. My readers are either extremely right on this issue OR extremely left…I think that the important thing is that we discern the various implications and decide what is most important to us. This book revealed to me the physical nature of the rugged coastline, the past issues surrounding the use of oil tankers in even more benign waters…and the high potential for an ecological disaster.

My peeps, as captured by Michelle Robinson. I love this lady…and I love her archive of photographs! We were visited that night by APTN National News.

The poetry of Clea Roberts has been a source of great inspiration since attending a Wordfest session, Into the Quiet, this year. Every poem is an elegant string of words, sparse but potent. I am left, after reading, with a sense of wonderment about this world of ours.

Because of the immediacy of social media, I have been able to access other people’s travel, adventure and world exploration over months and years…Nepal, Venice, Spain, Croatia, Haida Gwaii. I get the sense of how vast our life experiences can be…to eat seafood in Japan, observe the art of the masters in far off galleries, stand at the top of the Empire State building. I enjoy all of this very much. It all comes into my home, while I sit in my pyjamas at the keyboard, with my cup of coffee on the desk, to my right.

However, nothing moves me more than these poems. Because somewhere in these images, lies the remembrance of camping with my parents, the smell of woodfires burning, the soft conversations as neighbours drift off to sleep. The childhood listening.

The poems of Clea Roberts take me to that beautiful intimate place of connection in a much smaller place, full of limitless possibilities.

In the meantime, for two weeks, I have been observing a single Horned Grebe on a pond, hoping to capture a just one focused photograph. I have watched muskrats frantically building winter homes in the cattails on the north side of the fence while bulldozers plow and reshape former dwellings. I see miracles every evening as the sun begins to set.

It was 1996 when I received the gift of Perfection of the Morning from a friend. Sharyn had grown to mean so much to me over the years, having taught my children and worked along side me for the strength of Fine Arts in Education. Her gift was a blessing and I began to list Sharon Butala as one of my favourite authors. I felt Butala’s work really move my life forward in positive and meaningful ways. Interesting that yesterday, when I looked over my shoulder from the front of the crowded room at the Fish Creek CPL, I should see Sharyn sitting in the back row.

The book on the program for readings and discussion was Sharon Butala’s Where I Live Now. I was flanked on either side by two dear friends, Pat on one side and Denise on the other. I had never met the author and was beyond excited, packing up all of my books for Sharon’s generous signing before the session began. Because Denise knows Sharon personally, it felt as though I was sitting down next to a friend when she sat in the front row, with my stack in front of her.

And that is how I felt yesterday…blessed…enriched…treated to a very special moment on a Sunday afternoon. Sharon’s eyes lit up as she enthusiastically described her experiences on the ranch, her memories, transitions and disappointments. In good humoured and delightful fashion, she talked about the prizes of writing and the surprises of writing. Vulnerable, she spoke of loneliness, identity, and hope. The topics in discussion were ones that often cross my mind as a 62 year old woman, single in the world.

I think that one of my favourite moments, related to the book, was the recollection of the special day when Sharon edged the top of a ridge, to look down and see her husband, Peter, sleeping in the grass in one of the fields…I felt as though she had let us in to a very private and pivotal moment in her experience. I felt very touched by that.

I enjoy the company of my friends and treasured conversations with Denise, Pat and Sharyn. What a lovely way to spend Sunday afternoon. Thanks again, CPL.

As I head out to the pond with Max…thought I would post a bit of a flash back. I found a wee video in my archive, that I had made in 2011, the first year I began picking litter at this location and got into the ritual of circling the pond. Beneath the video, some photographs taken during the past week.

The drainage of the pond began and the people I spoke with promised that lots of volume would be left for the healthy fledging of the young birds. The project was stopped for a day so that the biologist who worked for the contractor could assess my concerns regarding the nests and the fledge. Readers, look at the following photographs and tell me about volume.

“We need the tonic of wildness…At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods

I was pretty excited as I drove out to Mount Royal University that day! I was going to be meeting up with my sister-in-law, Karen. She had driven into town to enjoy some of the Wordfest events and because of her extensive time in the north, she was more than familiar with the topics of this particular book. She had worked with our neighbours to the north. She had lived with our neighbours to the north. She held a wealth of knowledge within her, but stuff that we had never really made opportunity to speak about. I, on the other hand, was dumber than door nails about the challenges of the north. Like most Canadians, living in the south, we don’t know about what we don’t see. Out of sight-out of mind. It’s shameful, really. I feel shame.

Today, however, as part and parcel of my own journey of truth, I feel I have had a very generous introduction to the topic through the book, The Right to be Cold, and can now build upon knowledge that exists within me, however scant that knowledge might be. If the Globe and Mail can refer to this book as ‘revelatory’, so can I! And it was! To gain any insights about the wrongs of the past and sadly, the present, is to liberate ones self. It is only in educating myself about these mistakes that I can go forward to make change happen within me and in the outside world.

Mount Royal always stumps me, in terms of locating absolutely anything. It isn’t as simple as the posted maps convey. I wandered for quite some time before coming upon the theater where Sheila Watt-Cloutier would be speaking. The people who gathered seemed casual and friendly, calling out to one another. It turns out that some people were connected through the story and through the north. I felt like a blank slate…pretty excited. When Karen settled in next to me, she quietly told me about some of the people in the room. Embraces were shared.

I want my readers to read this book. There are chapters within these pages that overwhelm the reader with unfamiliar acronyms (NGO, POP, ICC, KSB, INC, CAIPAP, UNEP and so on…), but if possible, move beyond these to understand the huge complexities faced by our northern neighbours as they work tirelessly to advocate for safety and health for their families and future generations. Also, pay close attention to the work that has been happening in the past…the voices that have reached out desperately on behalf of human beings, voices that, like the author’s, spoke always from the heart and out of concern for the other.

I can not imagine what it would be like to be so impacted by colonization, industry, and ignorance that my identity, culture and even the health of the foods I ate were at risk. There is a dark history in our country. And while it seems too late to be educated and make a difference, we have no choice. For the Inuit people to lose their way of life is for us to lose what is distinct about our Nation. I grieve. I grieve because while I am typing these sentences, years have gone by since the writing of Watt-Cloutier’s book…and the exponential loss of the ice is going on at this very moment.

The Right to be Cold is written in the memoir genre, a form of writing that consistently appeals to me. I found the narratives about Sheila’s early years very powerful. As my readers know me fairly well, there were tears in many places. Yes, at times, I had to put the book down. The writer does not, however, write from a place of victim. In fact, I think it is important to her that we not place the story of the north in the context of a victimized people. Instead, she speaks from a place of strength and hard work and strong belief.

I was blessed, a short while ago, to attend an exhibit at the Glenbow Museum titled North of Ordinary: The Arctic Photographs of Geraldine and Douglas Moodie. Those photographs did for me what Sheila Watt-Cloutier did with words. We have sacrificed much by not caring for the north…the ice and snow…and the animals and people who needed to be heard. In fact, sometimes I think that we, as people of the south, cared more for the animals of the north than the people. And…isn’t that just crazy?

There was a bench where I could sit down. I felt the breath knocked out of me. I felt the truth, like a blow to my gut. I compared the images captured by the Moodies with the current news stories published about the north…suicides among the youth, housing crisis and melting ice. It wasn’t many years ago that I heard a teacher who had worked up at Cross Lake, Manitoba say something like…”I don’t get why, when there is fresh fish to be caught, that the people would go pay such huge prices and buy processed fish sticks from the store?” Read this book!

When I was a little girl sitting in a DND school, I learned about the ‘Eskimos’. I drew pictures of igloos and harpooning. But, I was given no context. Along the way, I was given nothing. I guess the most magical truth that I received was from my father who had a thirteen month long period away from home. We lived in Ste. Sylvestre, in Quebec, at the time. It was in the late 1950s. My father brought us stories and experiences. Apart from that, I knew nothing about the north.

Studio portraits, above, taken by the Moodies.

We have stolen a pristine and health-filled life from the people of the north. We have tried to take away all of their traditions, culture and ways of being.

Photos taken by my father’s old camera…

I’ve poured myself another coffee…never really got writing about Sheila’s talk that morning at Mount Royal. She was inspiring. She was light-hearted. She was serious. Sheila has impacted me and opened up my heart, with the writing of this book. As an author, she has connected me to the narrative that is our north country and to the fine citizens that have made the north their home over time and forever.

….okay, well, I just had a long Skype session with Karen and thank goodness because the writing of this post had become very difficult. I’ve settled…deciding to conclude this post with a quote and a short thought of my own.

On August 26, 2017 my grandson, Steven, came into this world. It is a powerful and natural thing that he breast feeds and that his Mommy, for now, is his whole world. It should be that this is the very safest place for my grandson to be, and it is. Imagine, then, the sad fact that in the north, this generous and natural relationship should be, in fact, dangerous to the infant population, in that country foods have, over generations, been tainted with POPs at a level far greater than we can know or understand. The peoples living in the north are struggling for their children and their children’s children. We must contribute to their hope and to their futures. We must be a strong force, where we can, in their right to be cold!

Book discussion happened with Aboriginal Pride with 12CSI Chapters and Chat. Photographs below credited to Michelle Robinson…woman who has opened my eyes to more than you know!

I should be out gardening. I am typically well ahead of the neighbours, but with owwies in the elbow this year, I’m lagging. That doesn’t stop me from feeling fired up, however, as I listen to the sound of the neighbouring trimmers, lawnmowers and the stchhhh stchhhh of their sprinklers.

It’s pretty nice getting outside for long hikes, without the lawn work, I’ve got to say.

Here are today’s birds…all at Frank’s Flats. I continue to hope that the pond on the other side of the chain link fence isn’t drained until the fledge happens. We’ve a lot of nesting water birds at the moment. We have one widowed Goose (female, I think), as well as a widowed Mallard (male). They were hanging out together for quite a bit today. However, as I snapped a photograph, the Mallard flew out of frame.

No smiling at the pond these days! If I smiled, I would eat my weight in bugs. Must be the reason for the excitement on the water. The gulls, laughing in a wild frenzy, are annoying the other birds. The Yellow-headed Blackbirds seem to be pecking away in the huge batch of blooming dandelions.

Giving me the Stare Down!

Female Blackbird

Female Blackbird

Black Headed Gull

More than a few…and Noisy!

One of the Male Grebes Having a Float

Overseeing his possibilities.

Female Blackbirds checking out the Men. So many visible, while for weeks, the men were out there doing the soft shoe on the cat tails on their own.

I took my camera to my birthday brunch, thinking I would snap some family photographs, but once there, I didn’t really think about taking photographs. So, for today’s post, I won’t have any accompanying images. Well, I can share this one.

She finally broke her brooding silence and was honking away and very active on her nest, after about four weeks of stoic waiting. This could only mean one thing. And, sure enough, before leaving, I witnessed the tiny bobbing heads of some of her offspring. As a result, my own motherly defenses surfaced and I got on the phone as soon as I got home, feeling very powerless and somehow, invested.

First, the Fish Creek Park Conservation Officer (didn’t get his name) returned my call and answered all of my questions, patiently, but also, firmly. I felt huge confidence after he made two things clear to me, 1. it is a criminal offence to mess with nesting birds or wildlife under Provincial jurisdiction and 2. Mother Goose is doing what is natural to her, or she wouldn’t be there. So, after saying good-bye, I decided that I was going to let go of my fears and upset over the potential loss of life and to accept that all is happening as it was/is meant to be.

Second to this interaction, I received a lovely and informative letter via e mail from Alison Anaka, the Environmental Specialist for Enmax, the company that is responsible for the maintenance and establishment of almost twenty platforms around the city. Alison has given me permission to share her information with my readers…communication that might be appreciated by my friends living, here, in the deep south.

Hi Kathleen,

I am very happy you were able to speak to one of the CO’s – they are fantastic and we work closely with them when in FCP. I would have liked to call you myself but I didn’t have your number.

I did write an email to you earlier today but hadn’t sent it yet – essentially saying the same thing as the CO – that Canada geese and their nests are federally protected under the Migratory Bird Convention Act, and ENMAX cannot remove or disturb a nest once the eggs are laid. It is unfortunate that our crews were not able to clear the existing nesting structure at Sikome Lake and that a Canada Goose essentially “stole” the nest site away from the osprey, but nests being re-used by other species is a natural and common occurrence.

I can also confirm that ENMAX did consider installing another platform near Sikome Lake, but it is not as easy as it may appear. The current structure is part of an energized line within right-of-ways granted by Alberta Environment (Fish Creek Park) and Alberta Infrastructure. Both of these entities were approached for permission to put an additional platform up in the vicinity of the existing line, however, each required a number of approvals that can take several weeks to obtain. As the osprey are not nesting on an energized structure or in an unsafe location, this was not considered by either entity to be an emergency situation.

As it was more likely that the goslings would hatch and vacate the nest before a new platform could be installed, ENMAX has decided to wait until fall to install the new platform in a more accessible location – so it can be cleared annually. As geese incubate their eggs for 25- 30 days I would expect the goslings to appear any day now. Once hatched and dry the goslings will follow their parents by leaping off the platform to the grass below (they will be ok!!). Once this occurs, if the osprey are not happy with their nesting situation they may return to the platform – still plenty of time to start a nest and lay eggs if they haven’t already. The new platform will be in place (and goose-free) for their return in spring 2018.

If you are interested, I can provide links to some videos which document geese adopting osprey nests and newly hatched goslings leaping from trees and platforms to join their parents on the ground. Nature is truly amazing!

If you see any other bird or wildlife issues that you think I or ENMAX should know about, please reach out to us – feel free to call or email me anytime with reports of what you see going on or if you have any other concerns. I appreciate your input, and knowing that you are as concerned about the safety of the birds as I am.

Alison

I really appreciate this response. Every year I am learning more about the various programs in our city. I hope that by educating myself, I can contribute more and more to the health of our natural ecosystems.

It is my hope that there will be a few survivors at the platform this season and I’m grateful that the matter or relocation will be handled before our next spring season.

The walk at Sikome revealed a large number of Yellow-headed Blackbirds, Red Winged Blackbirds and two pair of Common Mergansers. Along the roadway, a bunch of lavender coloured wild violets were growing. It was a beautiful morning walk.

Over the past two days, ‘they’ve’ been draining the water from one of the smaller wetlands that neighbours the pond at Frank’s Flats. I’ve been holding a bit of a grudge, given that, of course, multiple families of geese and waterfowl have already done their romancing and settled in. Changes will be even more dramatic when the 22X (Stoney Trail) expansion requires ‘them’ to interfere with the wetlands on the west side of Macleod Trail. I know. I know. This infringement upon wildlife and plant life is a constant struggle as human beings lay down more and more pavement, but that’s not to say that it doesn’t cause a person grief as they are witness to the process. Where are the advocates for wild life and who is listening? I sometimes wonder.

I met ‘a guy’ in one of those bright orange vests. Don’t ask me his position. It was a complicated title. I just nodded. He seemed interested that I pick litter and that I know anything at all about the wetlands. He participates in the annual river clean up. hmmm

He was out on that fine day, checking that everything was staked out and assured me that the remaining large trees would be coming down, but that on the first rip down, because of a specific time line and government regulations, as well as the distance from wetlands, they were required to leave the big ones for the sake of the ecosystem and the nesting birds. I explained that the magpies and crows….murders of them…were so distraught that for days they gathered in a single tree, yelling at the land. And yes…I did cry over the crows.

Due to the construction of a heavy duty drainage system last season, Enmax has not been able to properly maintain/facilitate the Osprey Platform on the Sikome Lake side. As a result Mother Goose has been there for almost five weeks. I’m thinking the goslings will either starve or fall off the platform. In the meantime two pair of Osprey have had to take up residence on top of sign platforms both directions on the loud and dangerous roadway. I don’t know how they will all manage.

Follow Up to This: The Fish Creek Conservation Officer returned my call, inquiring about this. I was assured of a couple of things. First, it is offence to mess with wildlife in any form, in its natural circumstance in a Provincial Park. Second, if a bird is nesting ANYWHERE, then this is natural to that bird. This gentleman had a very calm voice and was telling me the facts. At this point, I need to grow in acceptance of some of these circumstances where I make observations of birds/animals.

Nature will have to take it’s course.

I know that for the entire extent of the Stoney Trail’s development, wildlife, wetlands and trees/natural plants have been impacted. I know that I need to accept ‘progress’ here and in our beautiful park lands, including the Bow Valley Parkway. It’s just that I don’t think the general population receives all of the information as some of these projects go ahead at warp speed and gather a momentum that becomes destructive and insensitive to a wilderness/natural environment that we, as citizens of Alberta, generally, treasure.

Maybe this is a cliche, but our human population needs to slow down. Not good for economic climate? Tourism? Well…things to think about.

Today’s pelican…a senior, just like me. On its own, but it took flight, just after this photo was taken…something about Max, I think.

My friend, Julie, let me in on the very public location where Mrs. Great Horned Owl and her offspring are hanging out these days. These owlets will likely fledge within the next week. In the meantime, Max and I took pause, some distance away and watched. Of course, I cried. I was in awe that edging on a bike path, a mama could tend to her babes…so vulnerable, so strong, so absolutely magical. We need to realize that the species we share this planet with require our advocacy. We need to stop…and watch, learn and cherish. This is my plea as I write tonight.

Species that I have observed in the path of Stoney Trail development, presently. The mammals; coyotes and deer, have already vacated the paths I take.

Every year, I become more intrigued with the act of watching birds. The book, Birds Art Life by Kyo Maclear put some of that into perspective for me…in fact, when I poured over the pages, it was the first time that I could really connect with why I am so driven to investigate Frank’s Flats; the wildlife, landscape, atmospheric changes and ecosystems.

I think that Maclear proposes that there is a single spark bird that draws the everyday person into the act of bird watching. However, for me, it seems that every year, in springtime, I am renewed to the experience by a particular bird.

This year, that bird is this one, a Merlin. And…I could be wrong in my identification and challenge my readers to look at its markings and confirm with me if I am mistaken or correct. About three years ago, in my neighbourhood park, I noticed a nesting couple and likely heard them first. They have a very particular high pitched call.

Merlin

Adult male (Prairie)

Light blue-gray crown

Pale face with no distinct pattern

Streaked breast

Dark eye with pale eyebrow

Prairie subspecies occurs in Great Plains states and southern Canada

This year, I’ve been close enough to the nesting pair to have received a bit of an annoyed reaction. They are very defensive birds and protective during the nesting period. As I’ve discovered on line, their talons and beaks provide for some very nasty feeding frenzies on pigeons, sparrows, mice and I’m guessing that they could do a mean attack on young children or dogs if they felt challenged.

So, for now, I’ll watch from a distance. They are just beautiful!

Usually, one remains in a sparse deciduous tree or atop a power pole some distance from the nest, while the other stays tucked into the evergreen tree, a nest that was stolen from a mating magpie pair three seasons ago.

Recent photographs have helped me to make some distinctions in the small raptor, however, I’m still learning. I got some good shots of the nesting adult yesterday. I invite any feedback about these or other raptors as I expand my knowledge.